Piffle and Pinstripe
by Placidmage
Summary: AU. In the background of the turbulent 1920's: Matthew, a common spy with a kind, crossingdressing partner, faces the dangers of the future and the demons of his past. RavenLucius, MatthewLeila
1. ish kabibble

Exciting! My first Fire Emblem 7 story! Alternate universe, of course, and set in the 1920s for an interesting twist. I hope I'm in for a long one, but I hope you enjoy it as well. I'm warning you my pairings for later in this story are Matthew/Leila, Raven/Lucius, but I recommend you give it a shot even if you're not a fan.

Disclamier: Hey, I don't own Fire Emblem. Surprised?

* * *

File: March 13, 1921  
Agent: Matthew xxxxxxxxx (Location undisclosed) 

No one really looks through files anymore, the spy thought as he hustled through the crowd, his partner following closely behind. In these times where most police forces were more concerned with the prohibition law than the important ones that kept the country from falling apart, you might think 1921 was a bit unstable. There was this new group, the Federal Bureau of Investigation or something, that liked taking over the work that respectable spies like himself had been doing up till now.

_Pft. Overachievers._ Matthew frowned to himself. He liked to think he was doing something for the good of the people, but in a minority faction, it was hard to believe that he was doing anything useful. Even working for the government, there are some records that allow no access . . . like illegal bank records. This wasn't a hard job, no, but there was a kind of skepticism in his mind today.

"Hey. . ." The former thief glanced to his side at the . . . well, he should say 'man', but that wouldn't be nearly as accurate as 'woman' right now, because that's the role he intended to play today. With such a sweet face andidealistic morals, it was hard believe that his new partner was in this line of work.

"Yes?" his partner had his long golden hair tied back in a bun, and answered in a very Lucius-like tone. He hadn't slipped into his persona just yet. The most important rule to remember as a spy is no one can be allowed to remember your face. Lucius avoided this perfectly by never showing his own. He had such a dry personality to begin with that it was amazing how many masks he was able to put on. He bought an old feather scarf from a thrift shop especially for this job, and he'd already owned the skirt and blouse he was wearing. Matthew didn't really have any premise for worry but. . .

"I have a bad feeling." he said truthfully. "About this mission, I mean. . ."

"I know I'm not as experienced as you, but I think you can trust me to keep the manager distracted long enough for you to get the records." His blue eyes sparkled as he pulled out his munitions to do a quick touch-up.

Matthew frowned. That wasn't exactly what he was worried about. As a spy, you have to risk getting hurt. Not physically, but emotionally. He'd had his fair share of that, but Lucius was new, and very sensitive. Matthew didn't want to watch him break. As they neared the shady-looking building, Matthew caught Lucius' arm.

"I trust you. . ." Matthew reassured himself. He checked his watch. "It's 2:41. I need until 2:45. If you think that I'm in danger of being found out, you know the signal. 'good God'. . ."

"Yes. Yes! I know the plan. Don't worry so much." Lucius shook off his arm and took a deep breath, as if to signal he was going. Matthew watched as his facial features slipped into that of a high class lady, and he straightened his back. He smiled once before turning around towards his target. Watching him walk in front of the window with a pompous swagger, it was almost like he'd transformed into a different person.

He opened the door, and immediately spied the man at the desk, reading a magazine. This was an underground bank, so he didn't expect much, but there were two guys in back that he was slightly worried about, for Matthew's sake. He needed to get back there for the records Hector wanted. Hector, their chief of operations. Hardly the conventional type, he wanted them to look at the documents first hand. Lucius needed to give Matthew enough time to read them without getting caught.

"Umm. . . Hello there?" He waved a kerchief as he walked in the door, catching the man at the counter's attention with a sing-song voice, "Uh. . .Hii!"

"Can I help you?" the man sighed. Lucius took the liberty of crossing his arms on the counter, holding his chin up with his hand. He smiled, forcing his face closer towards the businessman's. He captured his eyes entirely. This gave Matthew a chance, he was sure, to open the door without a sound, and then disappear entirely.

"I'm not on business of my own, but my brother has a rather large sum of money that seems a little conspicuous." He giggled girlishly.

"Don't worry, ma'am. That's what we're he---" Lucius pressed a gloved finger to the man's lips.

"Shh." He smiled, "It's 'miss'. Please."

As the man blushed, Lucius didn't expect to see a sign of Matthew's presence, but the fact that he wasn't looking through the back room's file cabinets meant the two men in that room were delaying his actions. Lucius thought quickly.

"Can we. . . take this to the back, do you think?" he winked slyly at the man. Being one of the best actors in the business, this is where he showed his skill. The man nervously allowed Lucius passage behind the counter, thinking a lovely young woman had taken a fancy for him, but the spy had already noticed the slight step there was to ascend the platform. As he was holding the side rail, Lucius took a very convincing fall.

"Aah! My ankle!" He immediately clung to his right heel.

"A-are you okay?!" the man yelled. The commotion raised the attention of the other two, and they came over to see what was wrong. Matthew wasted no time and slipped through the second door to the back.

"a-aah. Do you think you could help me to the seat over there---" Lucius occupied two of the three men in carrying him over to the chair across the room. He'd seen it before, and knew that he could distract all three of them if he'd feigned a fall. As he continued to protest about how he thought his ankle was 'swelling more than a sponge in a lake', Matthew was flipping through the records. He'd tuned out the whining for the time being.

_C- C- Cor--- Corman, Cornwell. There you are._

He pulled out the file, and shook his head. Just a glance wouldn't tell him if it was as Hector had feared, but the amount did look suspicious. He took out his notebook and quickly wrote down the statistics. Dates, amounts deposited, and anything else that he thought looked important went down before he heard Lucius yell rather loudly as one of the men touched his ankle.

"Good God! Be gentle, you brutes! Can't you see I need _medical_ attention?" At those words Matthew dropped his pen and paper into his pocket, and scurried out of the back towards the door. The tallest one glanced back to where he'd just missed Matthew. Quickly, the former thief knew he was going to be spotted, so since he was near the door, he pretended he was just walking in. He took a rather loud step on the wood floor, which roused some attention.

"Welcome. Do you need some help, sir?"

"Not right now. I was just here to pick up my sister." Matthew peered through the crowd of men in the corner, ". . . Lucia?" He walked forward.

"I'm afraid I've hurt my ankle again, Martin." Lucius put his kerchief to his eyes, as if drying away imaginary tears. "You aren't mad at me. . ."

"Oh, no. Of course not." Matthew twitched slightly at the way Lucius said the name 'Martin'. It wasn't safe to say his name, he knew, but. . . Martin?

"Well, help me up, Martie!" Lucius said angrily.

"Yes, sis." He turned to salute to the bank men, "Thanks for your help. I might be back for your services, but now there are other things to attend to." He smiled sheepishly as Lucius whined again for his help. He gathered 'her' in his shoulders and left. He actually carried Lucius around the corner of the street before he was inclined to put him down.

"Did you get it?" Lucius returned to his normal voice, blowing the veil out of his face while he batted it away with his hand.

"I got _something_." Matthew replied with a smile, knowing that he had all that he needed, "You know I'd swear I didn't know you back there."

Lucius smiled, "I'm glad. That just means you know the real me." They walked a little while longer in awkward silence, "So was Hector right?"

Matthew sighed and reached in his pocket for his notebook, flipping a couple pages to look it over again, "I don't know all the details, but I guess we'll find out soon enough."

* * *

Lucius came out of the bathroom looking refreshed, amazingly devoid of make-up, and as close to normal as he could possibly be. At least he looked like a man when he wasn't wearing a skirt, but it definitely helped to have his hair tied back. Matthew was at the table reviewing his notes, and writing them more legibly, because Hector would complain if he didn't. 

The radio was only on static because Matthew dug it out of a dumpster, missing one of its antennae. He had a habit of collecting junk. In fact, the apartment was filled with it.

Matthew had scraps of illegible papers everywhere in his tiny room, and half the living space. The other half was food containers and dirty plates. They had a dysfunctional typewriter sitting in the corner, and they rarely plugged in the phone Hector gave them. He said they should be contactable at all times, but Matthew felt insecure with it on. Lucius was too polite to say anything, and kept reminding himself that Matthew had made considerable progress since he became his partner a month ago.

"Lord Hector's coming soon," Matthew mumbled, still writing.

"Mmhmm. Isn't that him now?" Lucius referred to the floor that was currently shaking with what seemed to be a rather large person walking up to their apartment. Three loud rasps came from the door. Lucius headed to open it.

"Are you bringing the paper?" he asked the person outside as he was taught.

"Only the crackheads bring paper at six in the afternoon, Lucius. Forget the password and open the damn door." Hector's husky voice splintered through the wood, and Lucius let go of the hinge.

"Good day, milord." Lucius smiled as it swung open.

"Now that wasn't so hard." Hector grinned back, stepping inside.

"Good afternoon Lord Hector," Matthew chimed into the conversation, "Lucius was brilliant today. We got the information in record time."

"Well good! How does it look?" Matthew tossed the revised notebook at Hector and the blue-haired chief looked it over with a frown. He walked in as he was reading and took a seat on the couch, "Blast!"

Matthew frowned, "Let me guess. That's not the end of the assignment, is it?"

"Unfortunately, you're right. According to other sources, and now confirmed by this, the Cornwells have been stealing from the national bank for at least three years now. I don't quite know how they managed it without an accomplice, but somehow they've been putting government money in this shady bank and shirking our records. Damn good at it, too." Hector scratched his head. "You know they can get twenty years off the bat just for stealing a dollar from the national bank, but this. . ."

"If you know who they are, why don't you arrest them?" Lucius asked reasonably. Hector, despite his lack of power (ordering spies around doesn't count) usually requests backup from the police and other investigation forces as far as their aid can carry.

"I would, but word has it, they've fled . . . we suspect their son knows where they are. . . but we don't know where he is either."

"Cripes!" Matthew interjected, "No leads? No nothing?!. . . Do we get a bonus?"

"No. He can't have gone far. His name's Raymond Cornwell. Here," Hector handed Matthew the folder he'd brought with him, "I have everything you need to know, from his first piss test to when he dropped out of school. I want you to find this guy, and get information from him. If police come for him, my personality analysts have a hunch he won't tell them a thing. He also has the upper hand because we can't prove he knows anything."

"Right. And we're not 'police'. . ." Lucius leaned over Matthew's shoulder, looking at a picture of the subject. He wasn't bad on the eyes, either. "So he's just caught up in this whole mess, but it's not his fault."

"Exactly," Hector sighed, "You're to find out what he knows, or what he doesn't know, and report to me as soon as possible. That's your assignment."

"Assuming we can actually find him. . ." Matthew said sarcastically.

"I heard that," Hector yelled as he headed for the door.

"Are you positively sure you can't give us a bonus?" Matthew tried again.

"Yes, I'm sure." Hector smiled as he left, "Take it easy . . . and turn on your phone for once, will you?" his strong voice muffled through the closed door. Matthew flinched at the mention of the phone. He glanced over to make sure it was still unplugged, paranoid as he was, and there were only a few moments of silence before Lucius spoke up.

"I think we should begin gathering information tonight." He sat down on the couch, ignoring Hector's last comment and beginning to look through the papers he left with them.

"At the speakeasies? . . . are you just looking for an excuse to dress in drag twice a day?"

"Nope. No drag tonight." Lucius smiled at the joke as he gently pulled out a map from a drawer of the city with various locations marked off with notes cluttered between street names. The 'speakeasies' he'd referred to was slang for the clubs scattered around that harbored illegal bars. You had to know the right passwords, or the right people to get into most of them. Generally, they were the best places for city gossip. Matthew had been poking around for a long time, and you could tell by the wear around the edges that this map was the result of his hard work.

"Okay. Well, you set it up, then." Matthew yawned, stretching his arms, "I'm taking a nap."

* * *

Lucius chose one of the larger clubs to start with, and gave Matthew a hat to hide his eyes. It was nine thirty before they actually started out,and Matthew became a little attached to the hat on the way there, saying that he felt like a 'real spy'. Lucius just sighed. He wondered how long Matthew could keep up his act. 

Lucius had a kind of intuitive feeling about people. There was no way to explain it, or try to understand it, but he could instinctively feel that there was something Matthew didn't want anyone to know. Lucius didn't mind, but he gave off that sort of energy sometimes, and it made him wonder a little. It wasn't in how he winked and whispered something to the doorman to let them into the club, and wasn't in the other secrecies involved in their work. There was something else. When he's ready, Lucius thought, he'll know he can confide in me.

"Okay. See what you can find and then meet me near the left wall in about . . . ," Matthew looked at his watch, raising his voice over the vaudeville jazz in the background, ". . .Twenty minutes?"

Lucius nodded without looking back as he entered the crowd. The music changed to a slow jazz and the alto sax took the lead. Lucius saw a couple girls on the side whispering about him, and they giggled as he looked back. He continued walking until he saw a shady figure at a back table shuffling some cards. It was just the expression on his face, because he was dressed in a pinstripe suit. Coming closer, he was surprised by the long scar across his left eye.

Regardless, Lucius approached him, "Mind if I play a game?"

The man stopped shuffling and looked up as if he knew Lucius was watching him all along, "Why, of course. You gamble, I presume."

"Blackjack is fine." Lucius sat down in the chair next to him. There were a few seconds of silence as the man with gray hair split the deck and placed the two halves parallel to each other on the table. He let them go, hovering his hands faintly above the stacks, and looked up at Lucius.

"Allow me to introduce myself," he smiled gently, bringing his hands apart "Legault's my name. I don't know yours quite yet, but I do know that you need the information I possess."

Lucius, being the actor he was, showed no sign of fear at this information, but of course he realized now was no time to let his guard down. How did this man know they were going to be here? There were plenty of other clubs he could have picked. But since this man was here, he might not be alone. _Could Raymond Cornwell really be more than just a runaway? A hostage, maybe? And if this Legault knows I'm a spy then. . . could he know about Matthew too? Is he in danger?_ Lucius didn't risk looking over his shoulder.

"Very well." He said serenely, ". . . and if I lose?"

At this Legault smirked, "Well, I also need information you possess." He shrugged, "It seems a fair trade to me."

"I see. . ." Lucius clenched his fists beneath the table into the folds of his trousers.

Over at the other side of the room, Matthew was busy having no luck whatsoever. He'd talked to three drunks, two of which were rather violent, and five prostitutes, three of which were male. This was not a good day.

He glanced at his watch._ Six minutes left. I don't think I can take much more of this._ He took a walk around the room, looking at the tables for suspicious characters. Suddenly, Matthew glanced to a table in the right corner of the room, and his breath caught in his throat. That smirk, and those cards. . .

_Legault?!_

It only took Matthew a grand total of eight seconds to realize that not only was the person he'd dreaded seeing for the past four years in the same club as him, and probably looking for him, but his inexperienced and impressionable partner was about to be conned out of . . . oh, God only knows what!

Matthew brought his hand to his hat, tipping it downward and looking at the floor in absolute disbelief. Suddenly remembering his place, he looked up, and Legault was staring Directly. At. Him. A smile of smug achievement plastered itself shamelessly on his lips. Matthew froze and dropped his expression to one of absolute fear. He was no actor.

_What do I do? Go up and drag Lucius away? No! He was here to find me, and he'll have calculated every one of his moves up until now._ Matthew paced up and down in his brain, _I have to do something . . . rash and unpredictable to turn the tables on him. He plays his people like he plays chess. What is the thing that I'm LEAST LIKELY to do at this point?_

Matthew looked over his shoulder, and a guy was laughing with his friends, holding a mug of bootleg. Matthew tightened his expression, and his fist. No time for second guesses with this. With that, he swung his right fist into the face of the man who was laughing, nearly sending him to the floor, with a few sidestepped paces away. Nearly the whole place grew silent, and the crowd looked at Matthew incredulously.

Legault and Lucius were torn into watching just as they finished the game. The man with the scar rose from his seat, chuckling as he pushed back his chair. He flipped his cards over in afterthought.

"My oh my! Twenty one." Legault announced with a smile as he watched the fight erupting on the dance floor, "I've won . . . but I'm afraid my question has already been answered."

Lucius narrowed his eyes suspiciously and pushed his cards in to fold, choosing to dismiss Matthew's conspicuous actions. There was something he didn't know, here. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I suppose I just wanted to know if I needed to do some cleaning," Legault said darkly as he picked up his coat and pocketed his cards. "At least your partner knows I'm here, now."

"How do you know Matthew?" Lucius asked thoughtlessly, though using Matthew's name was not a mistake. Legault began to turn away, but almost immediately turned around gently, grabbing the back of the chair.

"Ah, yes. I just remembered. That Cornwall delinquent . . . you should be able to find him working at the bakery on the corner of Andrews and North Avenue."

Legault smiled, and Lucius looked at him with confusion. _But . . . didn't he win?_

"Well, until next time!" He gave a casual wave as he turned and walked away towards the exit.

Lucius was left in the dust of a rather short-lived conversation, and was left watching Matthew being thrown to the floor. He was just in time to see the taller one lead the final kick that sent his partner into the wall. As he walked away, Matthew gasped slightly in pain, cringing his way into a smile as Lucius ran over to him. His partner extended a hand.

"What . . .?" Matthew paused, refusing to take his hand "You're . . . you're supposed to be blending into the crowd."

"I think we already lost hope of that." He sighed in concern as Matthew nodded and reluctantly took his hand, staggering quickly to his feet as he headed for the door. Lucius pulled it open for him to walk through. His partner wasn't exactly in the best shape right now, so he wasn't sure if he should ask questions or just leave him alone.

Their walk passed in silence as they headed back to the apartment. It wasn't far. Lucius was very careful to make sure they weren't followed. Just in case, he went into another apartment building and walked straight out the back to throw off anyone who might have tailed. Matthew didn't say anything, and kept after him at a good pace, battered as he was. Once they were inside, Lucius double locked the door.

Matthew had headed to the couch, and looked at Raymond's papers again.

"I know where he is." Lucius said, sitting down opposite him. "The man who told me. . ."

". . . Legault, huh?" Matthew cut him off, leaning back in his seat and breathing deep. Somehow his being one step ahead of them wasn't so surprising.

"So you do know him, then." Lucius said skeptically, "I won't press the details about whatever you're hiding, but I think you ought to tell me if there's someone who's after you."

"I know, I know." Matthew ran his fingers through his hair, "I haven't seen him in four years. Before I was with Hector. . . I was with his gang. They're a shady bunch of thieves, but they're also some of the best. I'm guessing he's . . . well. . ."

Matthew caught his tongue, leaving Lucius to figure the rest for himself. It was clear his past was not something he felt like talking about at the moment. What was important, now, was that this man from Matthew's past was attempting to meddle in their case.

"What about the Cornwells?" Lucius asked, "How did he know?"

"I'm not sure, but I did see you playing cards. You weren't gambling, were you?" Matthew remembered that special set of cards; he'd lost too many times to them.

"Yes. We played blackjack in exchange for the information I needed." Lucius said, confused. "Is that bad?"

"Legault. . . he always told me he never gambles. If he loses something, it's only because it was meant to be lost."

Lucius raised his eyebrows, ". . . meaning we'd be playing right into his hand."

"Exactly." Matthew gritted his teeth, "The only problem is, he has nothing to gain from all this, except to give me a serious headache. How he found out about our mission is not as important right now as what he plans to do. This doesn't involve you." The former thief spat angrily, "I- I don't understand!"

"Matthew! Calm down." Lucius reprimanded, "It's not your fault this happened. Maybe it's a blessing in disguise. I'm going to look for Raymond early tomorrow morning. I suggest you don't come, and take a day to cool off. If it's a trap, I'm sure I'll be able to handle it."

Lucius lowered his voice, taking off his jacket, and leaving it on the couch arm before he left the room. Matthew was looking rather childish sulking on the couch.

"I'm sorry, Lucius." He apologized, not bothering to look in his direction, "I think a day off would do me good." Matthew sighed as he listened to his partner retire to his room. He probably didn't hear. He felt bad he couldn't tell Lucius exactly why his old comrade was after him.

Seeing Legault again brought back some memories he wasn't sure he wanted to remember. But he supposed it was better than forgetting altogether. Legault couldn't have expected him to die, and yet . . . he should have been willing to give his life at any time. Matthew swallowed. He was a traitor for that, and also for joining the enemy. He couldn't blame Legault for wanting to complete his job, even after believing he was dead for so long. Matthew knew he deserved to die . . . the only thing is . . . she wouldn't have wanted it that way, would she?

Matthew drew his eyes shut from the dull apartment, trying to drift into a world of nothingness and sleep. Sleep, once a welcome escape, now became a state of vulnerability.

"Leila. . ."

* * *

_Chapter preview:_ Lucius disguises himself as the lovely Lucia in order to gather information, and catches Raymond in what becomes a quick and confusing relationship, as Lucius is unexpectedly falling in love. He is torn between two betrayals. Matthew has a few criticisms. 

_Language and Interpretation:_ Earlier Lucius used the word **'munitions'**, which was a common 1920's term for face powder. It was casual for women to touch up on their make-up regularly. **'Bootleg'** was a term used for illegal liquor, and **'speakeasies'**, or **'juice joints'** were the clubs they sold bootleg at. **'Piffle'**, as in the title, used to be slang for something that was ridiculous . . . a lie, I guess. Similar to when we say 'oh, baloney!' or. . . bologna. . . but I think in that context it really is spelled 'baloney'.

_A/N:_ So. . . what do you think?! I love feedback if you have some. 'Feedback' really is exactly what it sounds like. . .the power bar for fanfiction writers. I really like this story, and for the start to my first real Fire Emblem 7 fic, I guess I'm happy with it. I hope you do like it, too, so I'll have the motivation to continue! I'll try to answer any questions you have. Thank youfor reading! – _Ri_


	2. Joe or noodle juice?

Hey! Glad to see all the positive feedback! Thanks, everyone! I had an awful lot of trouble logging in to Fanfiction, though. Let's hope we don't have that problem again. Glad to see some Matthew/Leila fans! Just bear with me . . . we'll get there, soon!

Lao Who Mai, and anyone else who was unsure about my Raven/Lucius pairing, don't worry. I'm pretty careful about the realism of my pairings, and part of the reason I started this as my first story is so some people could see that it's really a credible pairing if done right. I'm glad you decided to trust me on this one. I'll try not to disappoint anyone!

K-Gforever, in answer to your question, Matthew had nothing to gain, really. He was trying to be unpredictable, and why win a fight that there's no point to winning? Right? P

CATHY!!! ::glomps back::

::ahem:: Now, on with the story. P

May 14, 1921

The girl from the back wiped the sweat from her forehead. Her braids swung to the side as she dropped a hot tray of muffins on the bakery counter. She smiled triumphantly at her achievement, and planted her hands to her hips.

"Hey, Raven! . . . You done with those popovers?" She looked to her side, taking off her oven mitts and putting them next to the tray.

There was no response from the kitchen, but soon, a slightly taller redhead came out from the door with a basket full of small, puffy delights. The man glared over them as he bent to place the popovers squarely in the display window, letting the top of the counter rearrange his hair a little, and stood again, looking at his instructor to await further orders.

"tee hee." The girl covered her mouth as she laughed again, blushing slightly, "You're really so funny, sometimes."

Raven raised an eyebrow slightly towards the mess of red hair, "How am I funny?"

"Oh, nothing." She smiled sweetly, "I just can't get over you for some reason. It seems so unusual you would work at a place like this, and ever since you came here, I've had so much fun cooking."

"I'm glad to help." Raven said, unsure what she meant by her words. He'd been working there for nearly three months, now, and he didn't think he'd done anything to merit his being 'laughable'. It puzzled him.

He grabbed a wet cloth and began to clear off some flour that spilled near the wrapping boxes. He almost ran the cloth over a receipt that one of the customers must have left. He pocketed the slip of paper, and looked up as he heard the bells on the door ring, signaling a customer's entrance.

Raven saw a young lady with a long blond hair, and a matching golden skirt walk in. She took off her sunglasses as she entered, and Raven was first captivated by the stunning blue eyes that immediately met his. He quickly turned his eyes down in disinterest and continued wiping the counter as the more energetic worker let down her broom to attend the customer.

"Welcome, ma'am!" the energetic girl jumped at the chance to sell her work, "I've just baked the popovers and the lemon poppy muffins this morning. They're still hot, and I highly recommend them!"

The lady smiled, pointing to the popovers in the window, "Those? They do look delicious. . . Did you cook them all by yourself?"

With the last phrase, Raven noticed the lady's eyes strayed towards him once again. The redhead glared as he quickly found something to do with his hands.

"Yes'm!" The braided girl announced proudly, "Everything here is made from my recipes, but I have help cooking many of them." She motioned to Raven.

This time the blond lady had an excuse to look over in Raven's direction. Raven glared. . .again, and she raised her eyebrows in thought.

"Well, then for someone who looks like he has an _objective_ opinion. . ." She walked over towards Raven, adjusting her pocketbook on her shoulder, ". . . what do you suggest?"

The redhead grunted indifferently, "I don't particularly like or dislike anything. Rebecca would know better than me."

"Oh?" The lady turned to Rebecca, noting carefully the name of the girl who had been waving her arm high, as if she were in class waiting to say something.

"Yes!" She said as she clasped her hands together in front of her chin, "I definitely recommend the lemon poppy muffins."

"I see . . ." the lady customer directed her attention towards Raven and smiled sweetly at him, "So you haven't worked here long. I think I'd remember seeing your face before."

Rebecca, seeming to sense what was going on, walked over to Raven and took hold of his wrist with both her hands, looking sweetly at their lady customer.

However, no sooner had she grabbed on then the redhead became insecure. He didn't understand what had gotten into her. Not thinking, Raven flung his arm away, sending her backward a few paces. She 'hmph'ed, glaring slightly at him. Raven raised his eyebrows ever so slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but just didn't know what.

Rebecca rolled her eyes in annoyance, yanking her oven mitts off the counter. "I'm going to see if that bread's done rising----" She turned away sharply, whispering to herself. "Men. . ."

Raven almost started to ask her a question, but she'd already gone into the kitchen. He heard a door shut. Raven looked after her, still glaring in a confused sort of way.

He really didn't understand women.

Turning back to the matter at hand, he saw a very different visage of the lady customer, who seemed to be thinking something very deeply as she stared in the direction of the kitchen. For some reason this expression seemed more real than any smile she'd flashed since coming into the bakery. He couldn't help but look.

As the lady looked back, Raven's thoughtful face seemed to catch her off guard. She snapped back, changing her disposition slightly, but in that slightness, the entirety of her personality seemed to change with another sweet smile.

"Ah, yes. I- I'd like to have two . . . lemon poppy muffins, if it's not too much trouble." Raven nodded as he went to get the muffins and the blonde rummaged through her purse for money and a pen.

A bag slid towards the lady, as she watched him write down the purchase in a notebook. She tore off a small piece off the paper bag from her muffins, and wrote a number and a name carefully on it with her pen. She handed the money and the piece of paper to Raven.

He looked up as he picked out the paper, reading it quickly, ". . . Lucia?. . . what's this?"

Lucia raised her shoulders almost as if to signify she didn't really know. Then, suddenly, she extended her hands over his, pressing them together, with the paper caught in the middle. She recoiled them gently, almost surprised at the drastic difference in the size of their hands, and looked up to him. (The actor's face never fell to blush, though his heart beat fast within his chest.)

"It's a number . . . my number." She smiled, "Please call."

Raven looked blankly as the lady. . . Lucia. . . picked up her muffins and headed to the door. She winked once before leaving. He looked back at the paper, deep in thought. Was this why. . . Rebecca left?

As soon as Lucius came inside the apartment building, he slipped off his high heels, hopping as he did, and left his feet bare in only his stockings. He smiled weakly at a person with a disapproving glare as he passed him on the stairs.

Lucius quickly unlocked the door to the apartment, but the door wouldn't open all the way. The double lock chain held the two sides together.

"Matthew!" He yelled, knocking his shoes and the bag of muffins loudly against the wood. "Matthew, if you're going to double lock the door, you have to be willing to open it for people who also live here."

"Mmph" The former thief grunted as he came to undo the top lock, sporting half a tuna sandwich that hung out of his mouth. He took it out with his right hand as Lucius walked passed, rolling his eyes "What's wrong? Nothing suspicious, I hope."

"No. I just. . . well, he's not what I expected." Lucius sighed as he watched Matthew down the last of his sandwich, and then threw him the bag of muffins. "Here. I got you a muffin. . ." Lucius said bitterly, dropping his shoes on the ground as if he were annoyed. Matthew caught the bag with surprise, and opened it with a smirk.

"Aww, Lucy, I didn't know you cared. . ." Matthew picked out one of the lemon poppy muffins and started to unwrap the foil. Lucius didn't feel the need to answer that comment as he headed to the other end of the room where the phone was and bent down to find the cable. Matthew nearly dropped the muffin mid-bite.

"Why are you plugging in the phone?!" The former thief threw the muffins on the couch and ran to the phone, yanking it off the table in a threatening gesture.

"Matthew! I need to have this on. Raymond's supposed to call me!"

"You gave him your number?--- OUR number? Lucius, you're supposed to get _information_ from the enemy. . .not _date _them."

"Well, this happens to be the best idea I have . . . and there's no guarantee it will work, anyway." Lucius gathered the phone from Matthew's hands, and put it down on the table where it was supposed to be, "Feel free to tell me if you have a better one."

Matthew crossed his arms, as if thinking over the situation. Lucius really was right. The phone had nothing to do with it. He was afraid, and that was all there was to it. He just. . . wasn't used to having someone around to compromise with. Everything had always been his way. . . he never cared what Hector wanted. Hector was the reason he was here in the first place instead of where he wanted to be. He wanted to die, that time. Matthew wasn't sure if he should thank or curse the man for it. Either way, with Legault back, Matthew thought he might just get what he'd wanted. That's what scared him.

"Lucius?"

"Hmm?" His partner answered calmly.

"I'm sorry. The phone is yours. You can do whatever you want with it, but I want you to be careful." Matthew said sincerely. "You're new to this line of work. . ."

"Maybe next to you, I am," Lucius reminded him, "You know I worked as a freelance detective, and even after I joined the government, I interrogated suspects. Matthew, I can do this!" He tried to be convincing, but he watched Matthew sit down in a chair, much more solemn than usual. The veteran spy fingered his vest, and took out a small pistol from an inside pocket, and placed it on the table. He looked up into Lucius' stunned expression.

"Where's yours?"

Lucius averted his eyes, grabbing hold of his arm insecurely. So that's what Matthew was getting at. . . Ever since they became partners, Lucius had refused to carry a weapon. Even though Lucius passed the police training and Hector had issued him one, he kept it in his room. He tried to ignore the fact that Matthew carried one with him everywhere, knowing that his partner was rational enough not to use it unless he was under a life or death circumstance. He figured jobs like finding information from a runaway convict's son really wouldn't require a weapon.

Matthew never bothered him about it before, but Lucius guessed that since his old friend Legault entered the picture, the situation had changed. Lucius also guessed it was very likely, since Matthew was in his group before, that Legault had come to either re-recruit him or kill him. If Lucius knew too much, he would also have to die. Still, he remained silent.

"You need to carry one with you." Matthew said finally, after the pause was enough. This was the gaze of a man who wouldn't have any arguments.

"Please, not a gun." Lucius swallowed, "I realize I'm in danger without it, now, but I won't kill. . . I won't." He caught his bottom lip.

Matthew shook his head disappointedly and fingered another slot pocket near his belt, and unhitched something from the side. He sighed, placing a small dagger on the table. It had fine carvings in the hilt, and a gilded rim on the sheath. Lucius took one look and clenched his fist, hesitating to take it from the table.

"You have no business going through my things. . ."

"I know I don't." Matthew smirked to ease the tension, "I won't ask why a pacifist like you has this, but I might suggest if you won't carry a gun, that you carry this. It's easily concealed, and quite dull, so you can't kill anyone with it, but at least you'll be able to protect yourself."

"This was. . ." Lucius took it from the table, holding it evenly in his arms. "This was the dagger that killed my father. . ."

Matthew was taken aback, "I'm sorry. . .I didn't know."

Lucius nodded, "It's alright. Now you know, so. . . Trust me to protect myself without all this. Please."

Matthew looked at him sadly and then looked away. "I trust you . . . to know the consequences."

Lucius felt a sting from that comment. He knew, but . . . how could he hurt another, if he knew how it felt to be hurt? The spy hugged the dagger closer. If you truly are able to love, how can you kill? Matthew, he knew, would be able to kill, but only because he could never love again. That's what Lucius felt from him. He had the curse of sensing people's inner turmoil. Even _Legault's_. . . inner turmoil. Neither pistol nor dagger would protect him from this.

_People only hurt themselves when they hurt others._ Lucius closed his eyes. _Why can't they see that?_

May 17, 1921

Raven sat on a chair in the bakery, looking out the window. Raindrops poured down the sides of the glass in an onslaught of windy blurriness that made it difficult to count how many people were still left walking on the sidewalk. You'd never be able to tell it was morning.

Three days ago, it was beautiful out . . . and three days ago Rebecca wasn't sick. Three days ago he'd lost the number a lady customer gave him. What was her name. . .Lila, Lily, Lucille. . . Not that it mattered. He continued looking outside.

He knew when a car passed by because suddenly, the window would be splashed with water. They weren't too far from the curb, and a dip in the road followed by a little rain could send a puddle flying. He couldn't blame people for not wanting to walk by the shop. Actually, he hadn't had a customer all day, and Rebecca didn't trust him with the kitchen alone, so he had nothing to do.

She really wasn't a bad kid, she was just . . . well, a _kid_. After all, she had offered him room and board when he ran away a few months ago, with the permission of her father, who he had yet to meet. Rebecca said he was on business and she'd contacted him by telegram. Raven already decided he wasn't going back. He couldn't stand to look his parents in the face, and he couldn't stand to watch them lie to his sister. Not anymore.

Suddenly, a car pulled up by the curb. After a minute, Raven looked up to hear the bells on the door ring, and a few slushy, squeaking footsteps came into the bakery. The delivery man's large figure nearly didn't fit through the door. He thumped over to the counter.

"Pfah!" He grunted, producing a telegram from his pocket, "Have you seen the sky, this day?! Awful stuff! Worry not, though! I'd brave a tornado to get these here on time! This postman's pride shall not be underestimated! Muahahaha!" The loud, forceful man slapped the note on the counter, and held out a pen.

Raven looked at the man curiously and was about to say that Rebecca wouldn't be able to sign for it because she was sick, when he noticed the label on the letter.

_To: Raymond Cornwell_

He glared at the telegram, and then up at the postman, who was still holding the pen, just to make sure he made clear his distaste. No one was supposed to know where he was.

"Whoa, lad! Easy, easy. Don't be shooting the messenger, now."

Raven took the pen and signed the man's paper in Rebecca's name, just in case someone tried to track him from his signature. Luckily the postman didn't take a second look, and handed him the letter. He saluted as he left, but Raven was too busy to notice. _Who could have known---?_ He tore off the corner, and saw the ink smudge on the first line from where someone must have touched the typewriter ink before it had completely dried.

_Dear Raymond,_

_We know you have every reason to hate us, but your mother and I believe you deserve to know where we've gone. Your sister is staying with the Carleons, but she does not know why we have left. I ask; I pray that you will take care of her, should the worst happen to us---_

Raymond. . .no. . . _Raven_ clenched the telegram in his hands, crinkling it slightly. So they'd left. The only thing he could think of was how much that must have hurt his sister. He didn't bother reading any more, and tucked it back into the envelope. He couldn't care less where they were, or how they were. They think they care now, he thought, but if they'd really cared about his sister, they wouldn't have committed the crime in the first place.

In the midst of his glaring at the now quite disfigured telegram, the bells of the shop rang out once more, and Raven looked to see a woman take her umbrella down, dripping water all over the floor. She smiled.

"You---" he almost sounded surprised.

Lucia looked up, "I have a name, you know . . .It's Lucia. Yours is Raven, isn't it? It's dreadful being alone on a miserable day like this." She held up a thermos, "I brought you coffee."

"I don't . . . like coffee. . ." Raven looked confused, and nearly said something like 'I'm fine alone', but . . . the words wouldn't come. The first thing he thought to do was shoving the crumpled letter in his pocket.

"I'm sorry," Lucia said disappointedly as she walked in, looking around, "Where's Rebecca? Would she want some?"

"Sick. She's taking the day off." Raven said, "Why are you here?"

". . . It's cruel when you say it like that. I only stopped by today because I noticed you hadn't called me back." She placed the rejected thermos on the counter sadly.

"You came yesterday, and every day in-between." Raven pointed out, "Just because you don't come into the shop, doesn't mean I can't see you."

"Not everything's business, you know. I--- I like to watch you. You never seem happy, but you must have a smile tucked away somewhere. You're an interesting person, Raven." Lucius answered. . . _Luciu_s did . . . he put his hand to his mouth in shock. Yes, it was _Lucius_ who answered the question, and not _Lucia_. What was happening?

". . .Hmm." Raven took a moment to think, "Perhaps you aren't as simple as I thought you were. In that case, I'll make sure not to underestimate you anymore."

Lucius swallowed, feeling the sweat breaking out on his hands. He wiped it away on his skirt. He must think about the mission now. That was more important than any disguise. As soon as he had the information, he wouldn't have to bother with Raymond ever again.

"So . . . you live in the apartment above this bakery? With Rebecca. . ."

"Temporarily, yes." Raven said, working behind the counter on tallying the earnings from the week in a notebook, "Don't you have somewhere better to be right now?"

"No, I don't, actually." Lucia put a hand on her hip, wrinkling her eyebrows, "Are you _always_ so antisocial?"

Raven grunted at that. "I just don't make it a point to befriend complete strangers."

Lucia had to laugh lightly at this, "If you never 'befriend complete strangers', how do ever expect to make any friends?"

At this, Raven glared vehemently, putting down his pen to signify that he'd finished calculating his numbers for now.

"Please leave, Lucia." Raven said this calmly as he looked away to the window, where the rain was pouring just as violently as ever. Lucius, suddenly understanding the meaning of this, widened his eyes sadly. He really hadn't meant to hurt him.

To have Lucia made amends, he tried to put a hand on Raven's affectionately to apologize, but as soon as their hands made contact, the pain of Raymond's confusion surged through his veins. He felt alone, and betrayed. He . . . he felt as if he could face everything by himself, but it made him so alone. . . it was too painful. Lucius felt it so strongly that tears came to his eyes.

Raven, feeling the cold tap of Lucia' hand on his own, looked to see her eyes brimming with tears. He was shocked. The woman had seemed so hard-headed before, he didn't expect such a command to affect her so strongly. Raven saw the blue eyes looking up at him with the sympathy he interpreted as hurt.

He couldn't stand to be the cause of all that hurt. . . especially not for someone. . . who looked so much like his sister did the day he left----she cried just like that. He saw Lucia cringe, trying her hardest not to sob.

". . . Don't cry. I don't understand, even for a woman, you---"

Raven was cut off when a pair of gentle arms threw themselves around his neck from across the counter.

He felt sweat condense on his forehead as he grew more embarrassed at the situation. He had to bend slightly forward to allow her arms to reach all the way around. Wasn't he the cause of her tears? His arms had instinctively poised themselves in the air, but as Lucia began to sob into his shirt, he didn't know what else to do except grab onto her shoulders and gently push her away. He'd never had his arms around a woman before, and it scared him, frankly.

She subdued her sobs, and brought up a hand to wipe her eyes, as Raven kept her steady by the shoulders. He looked at her blankly.

"I--- I'm sorry." Lucius stuttered, cracking his voice. He looked very pale, despite having just cried. "I have to go."

"Are you sick?" Raven gripped her shoulders, shaking her gently. She seemed weak, but still standing on two feet.

He said he was sorry, and he meant it. Raven might not have noticed, but at least Lucius knew that his sixth sense was his weakness. Not only physically, but his mask always left him, then. Lucius shook off Raven's hands from his shoulders and turned away, gaining back his footing. With a swift movement, he opened both the door and his umbrella, and headed down the street.

"Wait---"Raven called after her. He glared at the door she'd struggled out of, and then at the thermos she left behind. It only took him a minute to realize that he was going to have to go after her either way. She clearly didn't belong outside in this weather, though she seemed to have been fine a minute ago.

_I can't believe I'm doing this. Idiot._

Raven grabbed his coat and the thermos, and rushed out to the raining sidewalk, flipping the 'Sorry, we're closed' sign quickly on the shop.

It wasn't hard to find Lucius, because he hadn't gotten far. He was under his umbrella, leaning against an indent in a building not far ahead and breathing deep, white breaths out into the cold rain.

"Christ. . ." Raven ran up to her, his hood the only thing between him and the onslaught of rain. He put his hand up to her forehead. Unusually hot.

"We're going back to the shop---" Raven said. That was an order. Still, Lucius grabbed hold of his coat sleeve, as if to beg him 'no'.

"I'm. . . sorry. Could you walk me home? I don't think I can get there by myself." Lucius said truthfully, ashamed of his condition.

Raven quickly agreed with a nod, keeping his expression serious as ever, and the first thing Lucius did was grab hold of his hand for support. Raven, under the amount of weight being distributed, held Lucius' arm in place with his other hand.

They continued like this for a block, and Lucius directed him where to turn. If Lucius didn't look so pale and sickly, anyone walking on the street might have said they looked like a healthy young couple. Raven didn't think of that, though.

It seemed like a long time before they reached the apartment, but they did reach it. Raven offered to take him up the stairs. Lucius resisted, but Raven ended up winning in the end. The redhead was about to ask him for a key, when Lucius raised his arm to knock on the door.

Raven raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Cripes, Lucius you look like Hell----o." Matthew quickly directed his attention to the redhead standing next to his partner as he opened the door. Raven glared at Matthew, and fear surged through Matthew in that second. He swore to himself. He'd warned Lucius about having questionable houseguests.

"I'm coming in." Raven glared, inviting himself, as he took Lucius under his wing, "I'll ask questions later."

Matthew nodded, sweating slightly, himself, and dashed to the bathroom to get a wet cloth. He threw some ice and water in a pot, and brought it with him. When he came into the living room, Raven already had him on the couch with a blanket, and was staring over him. As Matthew came in and put the cloth over Lucius' head, he glared.

"I brought your thermos----" Raven started to say, holding up the thermos of coffee that he'd grabbed, but Matthew stopped him with the raising of one dramatic finger.

"Hold that thought." He smirked angrily, "Listen, make this easy on both of us, mate. You were never here, I don't exist, and what's not here . . . needs to leave." he motioned rather forcefully towards the door.

"Why? You're not hiding anything, are you?" He glared again.

Matthew threw his hands up in the air, "If there is a God, help me, now." He said to no one in particular, and resumed talking back to Raven, "No. You know what? You shouldn't be here, because you're probably the one who put him in this state in the first place."

". . . 'him'?"

"Him!? Cripes, yes! Me! This state –I'm- in, because I want to see you leave. You know? _Leave?_ Mooch, scram, screw; whichever one suits you . . . This is my house!" Matthew shook, holding his hand over the phone, "I'll call the police!"

They both stopped and looked over as they heard a weak laugh from the couch. Lucius opened his eyes, sitting up slightly as he held the cold cloth in place.

"Raven, thank you for your help, but please leave, I'm fine, now." Lucius smiled, the color returning to his cheeks.

Raven nodded in content at the one he'd helped before looked back at Matthew, who was still shaking slightly, and decided that it was best if he just left it at that. Things were . . . getting a little strange. He wasn't pleased that a girl would hit on him if she was already living with another guy. Then again, he hadn't forgotten the man also had called Lucia 'Lucius' and 'him'.

Raven shook his head as he closed the door. He'd have plenty of time to ask questions later. Even if Lucia didn't come back to the bakery, he still had her telephone number . . . somewhere. . .

Chapter Preview: More surprises along the way, as Raven continues to be confused, and Lucius continues to confuse himself. We see more of Rebecca, and Matthew should get a cool scene, too. He's not just sitting around eating muffins, if that's what you're thinking.

A/N: Poor Raven and Matthew P They're so confused. I think Lucius is empathic. Well, this is AU, so I guess he is, now. Ten points to the person who guesses who the postman is first!

I'd love a review if you have the time!

Err. . . thanks to Firelien. She noticed a mistake in this chapter. I just fixed it. ::winks::


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